


Work Ethics

by mckayla (steveromanov)



Series: Stevenat Fluffy Sexcapades [6]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fill, Smut, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Vaginal Sex, so this isn't really fluffy but i'm putting it in the series anyways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 14:56:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3900457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steveromanov/pseuds/mckayla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's stuck at the Triskelion, stressed and swamped with paperwork. Natasha's at home on her day off, bored and horny. She decides to cure herself of both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work Ethics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ice326](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ice326/gifts).



> prompt: "where it's a slow day in SHIELD, Nat's day off and decided to visit Steve in his office, (Nat's planning to do the dirty and all) Steve's stuck with all paperwork and stressed out, so she decided to relax by going under his table and blow him, then Coulson and team came in his office wanted to verify something about operation or something (nothing urgent) so yeah... so if it's silly."
> 
> hope you enjoy!

_I hate paperwork._

The thought irately and unenthusiastically flew through Steve's head as he trudged out of the elevator and down the corridor leading to his office in SHIELD HQ, a bundle of StarkPads tucked beneath his arm containing a heap of paperwork from missions he'd completed over the past week that, in Coulson's words, desperately needed to be filed. Now, Steve was usually above using rank and title to his advantage, but...he was Captain America. Captain America beat up aliens and got thrown through buses and engaged in hand-to-hand combat with men with cyborg arms (never mind that it was only one man, and never mind that that man was Bucky. And Bucky was okay now, at least mentally), he didn't sit in a stiff desk chair and file  _paperwork_ _._ Regardless of the fact that Steve's desk chair was only stiff because he hardly ever sat in it, let alone used the office ever, but his point was that he was accustomed to handling far more exerting tasks. Tasks that potentially risked his life, not the screen of a StarkPad being cracked.

Steve was mostly being a baby. That day was supposed to be his day off, and it was one of the rare moments when Natasha was off, too. They had fully planned on taking advantage of that fact, and they had even started to as soon as they both woke up; Steve snaking down Natasha's body and trailing kisses down her stomach until he was settled right between her legs, teeth just about to peel her underwear away. He was too engulfed in the sounds that she was making—the quickened little breaths, the small gasps, the low, impatient growl of his name—that he almost missed the sound of his phone ringing on the nightstand. _Almost_. He had half a mind to ignore it, too, but the ringtone quickly told him that it was a call from SHIELD, hence once that should probably be answered.

Granted, he also fully expected the call to be about something urgent, like flying out and taking down a recently unearthed Hydra cell or stopping a bout of terrorists at LaGuardia. But, no, what SHIELD called him for was _paperwork_. Now here he was, standing outside of his office’s door and punching in the key code to let him inside rather reluctantly, wishing that he was back home and wrapped up in Natasha’s warmth instead of being subjected to actually work. It was supposed to be his day _off_. Couldn’t paperwork wait until tomorrow? Couldn’t he just ditch the StarkPads on his desk and go back to his girlfriend? Couldn’t he—

“Hey, soldier.”

Steve’s eyes immediately darted to the voice. It was one he knew incredibly well, one that he’d been so enraptured in hearing earlier that morning. “Nat?” Steve frowned, despite feeling happy—and a bit relieved—to see her. “What’re you doing here?”

“What, not happy to see me?” Natasha teased, smirking in amusement. She was sitting in his desk chair, for some reason dressed in her catsuit—not that he was complaining; he rather liked it. And he got the feeling she was only wearing it because she didn’t want the other agents to see her in actual civilian clothes. Her legs were crossed at the knee, her arms folded just beneath her breasts. Steve found himself trying not to stare. Girlfriend or no, he still respected her, and ogling with his mouth hanging open definitely didn’t fall into that category.

Natasha seemed to notice his effort, especially since he didn’t answer. The smirk on her rosy lips deepened as she stood up and leaned forward, hands perched on the surface of the desk to support her weight. “Well?”

“No, no, I’m definitely happy,” Steve managed, the words tumbling out of his mouth rather quickly. He cleared his throat and shifted the StarkPads under his arm, aware that he almost dropped them with his momentary distraction. He walked over to the front of the desk and set them down, leaning over to meet Natasha for a quick kiss. “But it’s your day off. You should be home, relaxing.”

She briefly hummed after he broke the kiss. “It’s your day off, too,” she pointedly reminded. “And there’s nothing to do at the apartment, especially when you don’t have some _one_ to do.”

Steve chuckled as she raised a suggestive eyebrow. “I know, I know. And I’m sorry. SHIELD apparently figured that my paperwork couldn’t wait to be filed any longer.” He tapped the stack of StarkPads.

Natasha spared a distasteful glance at the stack before smirking again, this time with a hint of mischief and sultriness. She inched forward even more so that their lips were brought closer to one another. “Well, we can always pick up where we left off here.”

“Here?” He dumbly repeated, swallowing with a dry throat. Natasha nodded, staring at his mouth.

She gently sucked on Steve’s bottom lip before curling her hand around one of the straps on his suit and leading him around the side of the desk. She leaned against it, yanking Steve towards her so roughly that he had to brace his hands on either side of her thighs to keep from crushing her beneath his weight. It was rather hard to do, especially when Natasha snaked her hands down his body and pulled his hips roughly against hers.

“Here,” she murmured, reaching up to brush a finger along his jawbone. “Unless you’d rather do paperwork?”

Steve fervently shook his head. “God, no.”

“Okay. Then sit down.”

He did, collapsing into the leather chair that she’d been occupying moments before behind him. Natasha sat across his lap, her legs swung over the arm of the chair, and Steve had no choice but to rest his hand on her lycra-covered thigh. Even through the fabric, he could feel the heat radiating off of her body. It was nice to know that she wasn’t as in control as she looked; she wanted him now just as much as he wanted her, and _god_ , did he want her.

Natasha slanted her lips over his. He immediately opened his mouth to accommodate her, feeling her tongue slide against his almost instantly after. He groaned against her lips, relished in how _good_ she tasted; how sweet. She always tasted nice, like strawberries from her lip gloss or maybe green tea, if he caught her at the breakfast counter in the morning. Now, though, she tasted like desire. It was something he could definitely get addicted to, as if he already hadn’t. He was addicted to everything about her, and it was an addiction he had no intention of ever rehabilitating. As their kiss got even more heated, Steve made a move to wrap his arms around Natasha’s waist, but she was suddenly slithering out of his grasp and down his legs until she was perched on her knees on the clean carpet beneath them.

Lips slightly swollen and breath a little quickened, Steve frowned at the redhead smirking up at him. “What are you—?” Natasha quirked an eyebrow at him, and _oh_. He understood now. The revelation made his fingertips curl into the chair’s leather arms, made the bulge in his pants tighten to a whole new degree of edging discomfort. But he didn’t want to force Natasha into anything she didn’t want to do, even though this wouldn’t be the first time that she’d ever given him a blow job. It was just something that wasn’t done _often_ between them, at least not for a long period of time. He was usually too hell-bent on putting _his_ mouth on _her_ …

“Steve, stop thinking,” Natasha’s voice softly chided. She gently tapped his knee to catch his attention. “We’re fine.”

“But—”

“ _Stop_ ,” she interrupted. Her voice was just a tad harsh, but only because she was getting impatient with him. He abruptly snapped his mouth shut and flushed, nodding slightly. Natasha grinned. “Your gentlemanly habits are annoyingly endearing.”

Steve laughed, but he didn’t get a chance to respond because Natasha’s hands were already moving for his belt, which she deftly unbuckled. She dragged his pants down his legs, her nails lightly raking against his bare skin and sending goosebumps racing across his thighs. His erection was straining hard against his boxers, but he made no move to free it. Instead he let out a low, strangled groan as Natasha did that for him, her palm covering the bulge through the fabric and running a finger over the concealed head. A small circle darkened on his boxers as they soaked up a bit of pre come, and Natasha’s eyes danced with something akin to excitement at the sight. She curled her fingers around the waistband and peeled it back far enough to reveal his head, leaning forward and crowing her lips there before trailing kisses further down his shaft as she continued to roll his boxers down.

“Jesus, Nat,” Steve groaned, though it sharply turned into a gasp as Natasha took him in her hand and sucked at his head again. It took all the strength in his body not to jerk in his seat, too, but he managed to stay still.

It became an even harder feat, though, when Natasha took him fully in her mouth, her tongue sliding against the underside of his cock. Steve tightened his grip around the chair’s arms and was vaguely aware of the fact that he might have dented the metal, but he didn’t care. Everything just felt so god damned _good_. Better than usual, and usual was pretty damn magnificent. Frankly, Steve was currently having a hard time holding on, and he was bound to embarrass himself rather soon if Natasha didn’t let up, but he also didn’t _want_ her to. Every single nerve ending in his body was tingling with energy and pleasure and he was torn between wanting to prolong the moment or rush headlong into bliss, but Natasha seemed to make the decision for him, especially as she raked her fingers lightly against his balls and sucked him harder and—

The sound of his office’s door opening with a soft suction somehow managed to creep its way into Steve’s ears early enough for him to notice before the person stepped fully inside. Natasha noticed, too, because she was springing back and sheathing herself beneath his desk before he could even try to warn her, though he didn’t have enough time to pull his boxers and pants up all the way before the person stepped into the room, having no idea what had just been transpiring between Captain America and Black Widow seconds before.

It was Coulson. By the way he was readily approaching Steve’s desk, he was unaware of Natasha’s presence in the room, and what she’d been doing to Steve right before the agent unknowingly interrupted everything. Steve prayed to god his face wasn’t flushed red, because he had been _very_ close to coming and now he was trying to hide the fact that he was half-naked with his cock hanging out as Coulson (thankfully) stopped a few feet before Steve’s desk.

“Captain, good afternoon,” Phil bowed his head in greeting. “I’m sorry we had to call you in today. I understand it’s your day off. You probably had plans.”

 _No kidding_. Steve could practically feel Natasha smirking beneath the desk. He cleared his throat. “It’s no worry. This was a…pressing matter.”

Phil smiled wryly. “Not really. It’s paperwork. Even _I_ hate paperwork.”

“Yeah, well. Someone has to do it,” Steve returned the smile. The words were hypocritical, especially since he’d been complaining about having to do paperwork earlier, but that was before he stepped into his office and found Natasha sitting in his chair. It was also before she decided to give him a blowjob in his workspace, and before they’d almost been caught by a man who once called Steve his childhood hero.

Phil laughed. “Anyway, I just wanted to apologize. And Fury said you’re more than welcome to have tomorrow off, to make up for having to come in today.”

Despite the situation, Steve couldn’t help but scoff. “’Fury’?”

“Okay, so it was me. I’ll handle Fury,” he turned to go. Over his shoulder, he called, “And tell Agent Romanoff that she doesn’t have to come in tomorrow, too. I know your plans probably had something to do with her.”

“You could say that,” Steve replied, waving Phil goodbye. When it was clear that the agent wasn’t returning, Steve let out a breath and scooted back in the chair to look at Natasha, who appeared far too amused for his liking. They’d almost been caught having sex in the workplace, for crying out loud, and—she was Natasha. Of course she thought it was funny.

“That was close,” she said, her lips tipped up in a smile. She rose gracefully from the floor and straightened her uniform. “I hope you realize your pants are still—”

Natasha gasped in surprise as Steve abruptly stood up and kissed her, pressing her against his desk and uncaring that his pants and boxers were now positively pooled around his ankles. Natasha readily returned the kiss, her hands framed on either side of his face, but she broke it moments later and gestured over to the entrance. “I think we’ve already learned our lesson about unlocked doors.”

Steve smirked and reached over, flipping open a panel on his desk and pressing the button that it had revealed. The unmistakable sound of a door locking filled the room, and Natasha rolled her eyes.

“You couldn’t have thought to do that before?” Despite her best efforts to sound irritated, her voice came out a tad breathless as Steve mouthed at her neck.

“I forgot. I was rather distracted, you know,” he replied.

Natasha grinned in smug satisfaction. “Oh, I know.”

“But now we can _really_ pick up where we left off,” Steve said, punctuating the words by moving his hands up the front of her body and tugging the zipper to her catsuit down. He rolled it over her shoulders and down her arms so that her torso was left bare save for a simple black bra, the cups of which Steve ran his thumbs over to bring her nipples to attention. Natasha relished in the touch, but she frankly couldn’t wait any longer for him. Hastily, she peeled the rest of her catsuit off of her body. She was just about to slip out of her underwear, too, but Steve was already lifting her on to the desk, hooking his thumbs into the band of her underwear and pulling them down far enough for her to get a leg free. Even though they now knew for sure that they wouldn’t be interrupted again, the two of them were moving like they only had a certain amount of time to thoroughly enjoy each other’s bodies. Natasha dug her heels into Steve’s bare backside so that his cock was pointedly pressing against her pelvis, and Steve got the hint. Slipping a hand between them, he positioned himself at her entrance as he kissed her, and it was all Natasha could do not to cry out when he finally hilted himself inside.

She did moan, however; her nails digging into Steve’s biceps as she hung on to him. He removed his own hands from between their bodies in favor of bracing them on either side of her thighs again, wasting no time in starting a steady pump of the hips that had Natasha’s head tip back and mouth limply fall open. Steve took advantage of the sight, ducking his head down to suck on the creamy skin covering her pulse point, and Natasha tightened her legs tighter around his waist.

“ _Harder_ ,” Natasha groaned, scraping her nails over Steve’s scalp and across his shoulder blades. The pain was nothing to him if not pleasuring, and he growled against her collarbone as he pumped into her with even more vigor—to the point that the desk had even started to scoot forward on the floor with each thrust. Natasha breathlessly laughed at that, but Steve didn’t stop, especially not when her laugh turned into a gasp, and then a cry for more, and then a desperate pant of his name in his ear. He didn’t stop, not even when he laid her on the desk and slammed into her at a new angle, making her escalate to a whole new level of pleasure—especially as he yanked the cups of her bra down and connected his mouth to one of her painfully erect nipples. Natasha writhed against him, swearing as he grazed the sensitive flesh with his teeth, and soon she was incredibly close to falling over the edge into bliss.

“Oh, Steve, I’m—”

“Yeah,” he panted against her collarbone. “ _Come on_. Come, Natasha.”

She did, and she didn’t hold back. As she arched off of the desk, Steve held Natasha flush against his body, continuing to move against her as she clung tightly to him and loudly cried out, her head tipped back and face directed at the ceiling. Steve followed right behind her, letting out a strangled groan that was muffled as he buried his face in her neck, wrapping his arms even tighter around her. The both of them stayed like that; Natasha sitting up and Steve leaning into her body, breathing harshly against her clavicle as they both caught their breath. Weakly, Natasha lifted a hand and combed it through the damp blond strands on his head, tugging gently at his ear to get him to look up at her. When he did, he had a droopy grin on his face, and Natasha couldn’t resist kissing it.

“So much for paperwork,” Steve smiled, making Natasha huff out a laugh against his lips.

“Screw paperwork.”

Steve glanced down at the StarkPads that he had carried into the office earlier. They were scattered about, some on the floor, some spread across the desk which Natasha had been laying on. “I think we just did.”

Natasha laughed again, this time much harder.


End file.
